


Torture

by voodoo_smile



Category: Indie Music RPF, Music RPF, Pop Music RPF, Real Person Fiction, Rock Music RPF, The Cure (Band), music and bands
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Drama, Angst and Porn, Cruelty, Dark, Evil, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fanfiction, Forced, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Male Slash, Possession, Rating: M, Rating: NC17, Rough Body Play, Rough Sex, Slash, Smut, The Cure, Violence, robin gallith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 09:30:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20580278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoo_smile/pseuds/voodoo_smile
Summary: Setting: Simon/Robert (Simon's POV) 1982, Pornography era.Disclaimer: I do not own The Cure. Everything described in this story is fictional.*Just a very short scene. A glimpse into just how much everything was spiraling out of control*





	Torture

He’s pushing me backward, back into the wall and it bloody hurts, but his hands never leave me, and now they’re on my zipper and it’s stuck. It won’t budge, and Robert’s growing frustrated, breathless, as he tries yanking my trousers down.

I suppose it’s my fault though, as I came down here in the storeroom to be alone—to get out of the studio and have some peace by myself for just a few minutes, without him or the others lurking, without the constant bickering, but he doesn’t care. He’s restless and relentless anymore; this time I swear he’s hunted me down for his own pleasure just to be cruel. It wouldn't be the first time.

“Robert, no…” I whisper exasperated, but he’s not listening, never does.

Most of the time I don’t even think he bothers to hear me. It’s like I don’t even exist. He’s frantic now, tugging at my trousers until he finally wrenches them down my thighs and his bloodshot, steely–blue gaze scans my face quickly before I see his eyes suddenly turn to black empty holes…and he pushes me over, knocking me to the floor.

“Fuck, wait!” I start, as I try and turn to face him again, “What–”

“Shut up and turn over…” He says so quietly and so determined, but there’s no warmth in that voice above me; the coldness is all too apparent.

I hear a rustling sound and then his zipper—it’s pretty clear what he wants now, and I don’t protest. I just lie there and wait for it, knowing it will all go a lot quicker and be a lot easier if I just let him take what he wants. Fighting him off anymore is impossible and pointless.

He pulls my hips up and in an instant, shoves himself all the way in…and I can’t let him hear the scream of agony that wants to escape. Instead, I bite my lip until it draws blood as he starts moving inside me. He’s fucking me hard and I'm shaking, barely able to hold myself up, and my head hits the wall over and over again with each painful thrust, but he takes no notice…just continues on...and before I know it, he growls above me as he comes and it burns. It always does with him now. It's torture, almost like poison.

There’s no sound behind me for a few moments after he pulls out and I feel a hand brush my back gently, almost as if he wanted to stop and touch me like he used to, but he doesn’t. He immediately zips up his trousers, grabs my hair roughly and pushes my head forward, _hard_ just so he can see it slam into the wall again and hear me gasp in pain. It’s the only way he still has control…

_*THE END*_


End file.
